He's a Pirate
by ThanksIllPass
Summary: spideypool pirate AU


Peter woke up to the sound of screams and gunshots. Were it not for the fact that the captain of this ship held him on board against his will, he would probably rush to help in no time. Who was he kidding, he was rushing to help regardless. Because pirates. No matter how creepy and scary and corrupted Captain Lincoln was, at least he wasn't a pirate.

But what Peter saw upon arriving on deck made him rethink whether they were really dealing with mere pirates. Were, as in past tense, because everyone was dead. Captain Lincoln was currently walking the plank, held at gunpoint by the ugliest man Peter had ever seen in his life.

"Wait!" he shouted, and the pirate flailed, surprised, accidentally pushing Lincoln into the sea. He swore crudely and sighed, childishly disappointed. "I was gonna insult that creepy albino a bit more…"

Peter gaped, shocked, starting to feel more and more uneasy; the man seemed insane. Peter looked around, looking for the rest of his crew but he only saw dead bodies of the Tombstone's one. Suddenly, a man dressed as a parrot appeared; he looked even more terrified than Peter felt.

"Where are your men?" he asked. The beast grinned and approach Peter with giddy leaps. He started circling around Peter, looking at him attentively and humming appreciatively. Peter felt himself blush.

"There's only us," the man said. "My name is Captain Wade Wilson and this is my parrot, Bob. Say hi, Bob!" Bob muttered a greeting and the man tensed. In a matter of seconds he was by Bob's side, hitting him with a gun. "You're supposed to squawk! You're a parrot! Parrots don't talk!" Peter blinked. Insane didn't even begin to cover what Wilson seemed to be.

"Yes, they do," Peter heard himself say. He gulped and immediately wished he could just jump right into the sea and die, because who knew what Wilson could and would do to him. Wilson turned around abruptly, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at Peter. "What did you say?"

"Um… Parrots can be taught to imitate human speech, their beaks-"

"Did you know about this, Bob?" Wilson interrupted. Bob shook his head solemnly and Wilson hummed thoughtfully. Then he started nodding and mumbling, grunting affirmatively, as if in response to _something_. Peter started to panic but was interrupted by Wilson clapping his hands together and exclaiming: "You're absolutely right, First Mate White, Second First Mate Yellow!"

Peter looked around but there was nobody there. Clearly, that man heard _voices_. Peter was going to die. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe and ignore Wilson's raspy voice telling Bob to "say his name, come on, you can do it, you stupid bird, say it!"

Suddenly, Peter couldn't hear anything, so he risked opening one eye. Wilson was right in his face, watching him with worried eyes. Peter yelped and fell down right on his butt; gods, that man was terrifyingly hideous! Wilson cackled and crouched in front of Peter, smiling friendly.

"So what is a pretty boy like you doing on a ship like that? I mean, Tombstone! Who names their ship like that? No one who is up to any good, surely you must know this!" Peter cleared his throat and looked away. "I'm studying to be a doctor. Captain Lincoln was supposed to take me to Boston but he… uh, he kidnapped me." Gods, that was embarrassing.

"Can't say I blame him, just look at you!" Peter blushed again and dared to look at Wilson. He didn't look at Peter like Lincoln did; there was no filth in his stare, just amused interest and, perhaps, a hint of appreciation. He had really nice eyes. And bone structure. His smile was nice too. Peter startled. What was he even thinking! Now was not the time to admire your killer-to-be!

Wilson turned visibly sadder, probably assuming Peter's reaction was caused by his appearance. Peter fought the urge to protest, to explain, to ask what happened to him. There was not point in it if he was going to die.

"Now come on, baby boy, let's take you to Boston," said Wilson, getting up and stretching. Peter was so shocked he couldn't even move. He watched Wilson drag Bob back to their ship, "teaching" him new words.

Peter didn't know what to do or think. This clearly insane man, this monster with sad eyes who killed a dozen of people by himself in mere minutes, said he was going to take him to Boston, as in _not kill him_. This was all so _unreal_…

"Coming? I'd suggest coming with us, this boat is going down!" Peter was up so fast that his head was spinning and he didn't even notice when he ended up on another ship. "Welcome on Deadpool, baby boy, destination – Boston!" Peter couldn't suppress a laugh at Wilson's child-like excitement. Also, he was just pretty happy he lived and, as far as he could tell, he was free.

"Peter. My name is Peter. And… did you say something about naming your ship?" Wilson laughed happily at the taunt. "Mouthy! And I was beginning to suspect you couldn't talk at all!" Peter frowned, suddenly confused. He was talking all the time, what was Wilson even talking about? Uneasiness crept back into Peter's guts. "I told you about the parrots!"

"That was you? Oh well, no need to get offended, Petey, an honest mistake!" Peter shook his head, disbelieving, but still relieved and quite amused. This was going to be an unusual journey and Peter found himself looking forward to it. "Come, let's eat some fine Mexican food! Bob will take care of everything here, won't you, Bob?"

Bob responded with a squawk and Peter let Wilson grab his hand and lead him to his cabin. The scared skin felt weird against his own, but not unpleasant. The place was a mess, guns and clothing everywhere, and the food was on the table, still warm, as if Wilson knew that the whole Tombstone action wouldn't take long.

That reminded Peter of what happened, that Wilson killed the whole crew of Tombstone. He suddenly lost his appetite. "So why did you do it?" he asked, and snickered when Wilson lifted his head to look at him, mouth full of food. He repeated his question, less pleasantly this time.

"I'm a pirate for hire. I got paid for sinking that ugly boat." As if on command, there was an explosion. Peter cringed; he felt sick again and his eyes hardened. "They were evil men, Petey," Wilson said placidly. Peter scoffed and laughed a bit more hysterically than he would like to admit.

"But you're a pirate!" he shouted accusingly. "How's that any better than-"

"Yeah, but I don't hurt anyone."

"What?! You just killed a dozen of people!"

"Yeah, but they were bad!"

"So what, does that make you good?! A good pirate?!"

"Yeah, I mean- no, I- what? No, I'm not good! I'm scum, just like them! But I don't- You know what? Go to sleep before I do something _you_'ll regret."

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

But Peter didn't move an inch, and neither did Wilson. They just looked at each other angrily, seething. Not knowing why, Peter felt a spike of arousal. He tried to ignore it and act on it at the same time, and hated himself for it. "Wanna make out a little?" Wilson asked suddenly. Peter gaped and flailed, struck completely speechless for a moment. "What."

"Just and idea, geez, calm down. Fighting makes me horny, I thought that maybe you might like to- Nevermind." Wilson shrugged, looking a bit disappointed, following invisible movements on the table with his eyes. Perhaps he was listening to the voices again. Peter felt a bit guilty. He sighed and shook his head. "You're ridiculous."

"Ha!" Wilson's eyes snapped up to his, filled with mirth. A teasing smirk bloomed on his lips. "Ridiculous! Not disgusting, not insane, _ridiculous_! That means I still have a shot!"

"Do you now," Peter deadpanned. Wilson's smirk didn't disappear, if anything, it only grew wider; he leaned slightly closer to Peter. "Still not hearing a _no_, baby boy. Now, unless you wanna help out, run along and play with Bob, I need to jerk off."

Peter barked out a laugh, surprising himself perhaps even more than Wilson. He hid his face in his hands, as his arms shook with laughter. He was just glad; he didn't want to fight with Wilson. Surprisingly, not out of fear for his life, but for hurting this man; Peter had a feeling Wilson experienced more than enough pain in his life.

He lifted his eyes, intending to look fondly at Wilson and reassure him that they were alright, but he immediately shrieked upon seeing Wilson casually unfastening his pants. Peter was out of there in a flash, cheeks hot and heart trying to beat right out of his chest. This was decidedly _not_ good.


End file.
